The Operation

A couple of weeks ago I received some disturbing news at The Freeman Hospital, I won't say what it was , but if you know me you will know what it is , by reading this it will become perfectly clear what it is.

I am writing this as a complete novice about medical procedures but I had been booked in for a TACE procedure. If you follow the link will know what I am talking about, but this is the first part in a potential series of operations, and if the bullseye is hit then it will be all that needs doing.

Though I knew what was going to happen and what it was for, like many men, I had not investigated the details beforehand, though the information was available.

I had some issues getting into my allocated ward, and ended up in a ward for people with leg issues.

I was under the impression my operation would be in the afternoon, but a couple of the guys' operations were running late and I was thinking I would be in there another night.

I had been a little worried about coming into hospital and recorded some of my worries in a poem called "The Hospital Run" which you can read here.

I thought I was going to have surgery on my body , and when the guys started talking about going under general anaesthetic I started to get frightened but had no one to talk to about it. I had had it at the dentists as a child so I shouldn't be frightened now should I.

The poet John Cooper Clarke in his epic poem "Beasley Street" describes sleep as "a sneak preview of death" and that is what was in my mind when the guys were talking .

Unexpectedly at about one a guy came into the ward and said "Right you are going down". I was glad but scared but unable to say anything , but I knew I was in the best place possible for my condition.

I let myself be wheeled down to the operation area , and filled in forms , told them why I was called Francis Michael (my drunk uncle gave my father's names to the registrar instead of the singular Michael) then they started explaining about the operation , and I quickly realised that this might not be as bad as I thought.

I was wheeled into the operation room was full of screens some kind of scanning machine and about eight very communicative people , the only names I can remember were Sean the friendly and affable nurse and Rula who was complaining about how cold it was , and I said it keeps people awake.

The then explained they would go in via my groin , first in a vein to measure pressure on my liver in case we needed surgery in future , the second into an artery to map out a route into the tumour.

Then they would insert some plastic beads , containing chemo , that would block the blood feeding the tumour, and then hopefully fry it. These would be delivered on the end of wires inserted into my artery. After that I was told I may have seven to ten days feeling under the weather as my body deals with the fried tumour.

On my part, I had to lie completely still in a white room which made me think of a garage and with an indication of how long I had been there. My back ached quite a lot but this had to be done and was far less frightening than I thought it would be .

I was under local anesthetic and was feeling some sharps and pressure but nothing painful. Because I was hearing the doctors talking, asking for items I didn't have a clue how far along in the operation I was.

I was worried that when the wires went in they would really hurt. Eventually, I saw a clock, it had been blocked from my vision , by the scanner the doctors were using to monitor what they were doing.

It was twenty to three , and they told me they had a few more to insert and would be finished in thirty minutes .

Then they told me it was done.

I was moved off the operating table by Rula and a really great guy Sean onto a trolley, no mean feat moving a fat old bloke like me. I then had to lie flat for thirty minutes , then after that bed rest for thirty minutes, the I could get up and walk about .

I of course started walking and immediately felt a wetness on my left leg, looked at my pajama bottoms, and they were blood soaked, the artery was bleeding.

Called a nurse and he put some pressure and some plasters on it, and that slowed it down eventually to a stop.

This may be just the start, but I am so lucky to have the expertise and the care of the NHS to look after me. I also have the support and love of my family and friends and my Vocal communities and some very close friends there who have helped me through this with their encouragement and support.

Queen and David Bowie's wonderful "Under Pressure" seems sort of appropriate for this story.